Magic and Babies Do Not Mix
by deans42ndfreckle
Summary: Harry Potter, age almost one, is on a mission! The task: get that stick-like thingy from daddy and find out how it works! Baby!Harry AU Lily/James Remus/Sirius Non-Death-Eater!Pettigrew


Harry was on a mission of the utmost importance.

It wasn't the first time he had seen those long, stick-like things in mummy's and daddy's hands but Harry had never really payed them any mind before. They were as natural a part of his day to day life as diaper changes or visits from Moo'ey and Pa'foo and Wom'tai were. Never, in Harry's short lived and fleeting memory had they done something quite so interesting as _that_.

It was a normal evening in that cold month that Harry wasn't so fond of but tolerated anyway because it made everything pretty again. Daddy was reading an adult book (called such because of its lack of pictures) and watching Harry out of the corner of his eye as he zoomed around on that bristly thing that was much longer than those sticks mummy and daddy had and that Pa'foo had gotten him in that month that was too hot but where everybody seemed to want to give him new things, and mummy and Moo'ey were in the room where all the food was. Pa'foo and Wom'tai were sitting across from each other with a small table between them, and on it, rested that black and white board with the little men who walked around hitting each other when somebody told them to. Sometimes Pa'foo would take Harry onto his lap and whisper things into his ear to say to the little men but the little men always grumbled because Harry couldn't repeat what Pa'foo said very well and then Wom'tai and Pa'foo just laughed. Harry hadn't the foggiest _why_ they laughed but he laughed along with them anyways, if only to see those pretty, white things in mummy's mouth when she laughed. Harry didn't have any of those yet but he was expecting them any day.

Harry was getting very good at stopping his bristly thing. Every time he made a sharp turn or stopped on a dime, daddy would crow like one of the chickens in the garden of Mrs Weas'ey and shout some big word that sounded like cabbage and how Harry would be amazing at it when he grew up. That always made Harry frown because he didn't like cabbage and mummy and daddy knew it, so why wouldn't they stop saying it?

Anyway, Harry was just about to execute a complicated series of loops through the food-room, between mummy and Moo'ey's legs, back out into the room with the big table, then over that big, comfy, leathery thing that Moo'ey insisted was called a couch, and finally, stop his bristly thing and tumble into daddy, but things didn't exactly go as planned, now did they?

Just as Harry was about to enter the food-room (kitchen, mummy called it, but Harry couldn't say that very well yet), a big foot entered his line of vision. He tried to swerve to avoid it but another foot soon followed it and Harry quickly lost track of what was happening. The only thing he could remember for sure was that mummy had whipped out her wooden stick thing, yelled a series of words that sounded to Harry like gibberish, and everything stopped. Quite literally.

It took Harry a moment to notice in his disoriented state but the bristly thing, along with the large tray of food that she had been carrying (now that he saw it, Harry realized that he was quite hungry) and dropped when she saw Harry flying through the air, had stopped, suspended in midair. Then, with a soft cry, mummy picked Harry out of the air, retrieved the food tray, placing it on the counter to free up a hand, and grabbed the bristly thing by the wooden part. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw daddy point his wooden stick thing at all of them, mumble a few more gibberish words, and everything began moving again.

As he sat in mummy's arms, Harry wondered if he should cry or not. Usually, mummy petted his hair and whispered tickly things into his ear when he had gotten a bobo in an attempt to get him to stop crying, but Harry hadn't gotten a bobo this time, had he? He pulled away slightly from where mummy was cuddling him and looked himself over. Nope; not a bit of that thick red stuff that came out when he got hurt was anywhere on him. So why did mummy sound so scared?

Harry did the only thing he could think of, then. He grabbed a lock of her shiny, red hair, pulled gently, and, when she looked at him inquiringly, proceeded to yell, "FOOOOOOD!" Harry noted a change in the feel of the room then as everyone, including himself, laughed. He was always good at making people feel better.

But later, when he lay in his crib and mummy and daddy were animatedly reading him stories to put him to sleep, Harry's young mind began to drift. Yes, Taffy the Giraffe was interesting and all but those sticks that everyone, except for Harry, seemed to have were much more interesting and Harry decided to make his opinion known. On wobbly legs, Harry pulled himself to a stand and looked at daddy who had stopped reading to watch him. What had they called those stick-like things? Warps? Woods? Wands! Yes, that was it!

With his palm open, Harry stretched out his chubby little arm and, in his most adult voice, said, "Wand! Hawwy want to see!"

Mummy and daddy looked at each other then and began to laugh and so did Harry, because it was his joke and why shouldn't he laugh too? Then they kept reading and the mystery of the wands was put temporarily out of Harry's mind.


End file.
